


Heirloom

by quarterleigh



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Enemies to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 19:43:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15347295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quarterleigh/pseuds/quarterleigh
Summary: “You had a head start and you know it, Howell. Stop acting like you’ve earned this. Every single person in this room has worked harder and longer than you. Quit behaving like the spoiled rich boy that you are and grow up."or: Dan comes from a fashion dynasty. He's lived most of his life as quietly as he can, but when he is suddenly given a modeling job at a prestigious show, the hard-working, established model Phil Lester is not happy about it.





	Heirloom

**Author's Note:**

> I'm excited about this story. Let's all keep our fingers crossed that I can actually keep up with a WIP. (rated explicit for later chapters)

  Dan was stood in line backstage, dressed head-to-toe in Alexander McQueen, and his hands were shaking. Phil Lester was standing directly behind him, close enough that Dan could feel his warmth on his back. Dan was seconds from walking in his first show and his teenage idol was ripping his heart to shreds. “You had a head start and you know it, Howell. Stop acting like you’ve earned this. Every single person in this room has worked harder and longer than you. Quit behaving like the spoiled rich boy that you are and grow up,” Phil Lester murmured, leaning over Dan’s shoulder to speak into his ear. His voice was soft but wavered with anger. Dan nearly missed his cue and felt as though he might vomit, but he nailed his walk.

✦

_BEFORE_

  Daniel Howell was born famous. His mother kept the tabloids from the week Dan was born, where every detail of his birth was gleefully reported on in various ‘celeb gossip’ sections. He had vague, hazy memories of strangers on the street taking his photo before the paparazzi laws were changed. His childhood was spent in the company of adults; his parents, private tutors, and nannies. He would sometimes go weeks at a time without leaving his multi-million pound mansion. It was exceptionally lonely.

  It wasn’t until he was six years old that he even began to understand just how unusual his life was. His tutor, Caroline, had been treating him some basic computer skills, such as searching the internet for information. They had looked at pictures of horses and read about the prime minister and played some games. He was entranced. He tried to type his own name into the rectangle called the ‘search bar’ but Caroline rested her hand on top of his and shook her head.

  “No, sweetie. Let’s look up the name of those new flowers your mummy planted in the garden.” But after she left, there was no one around to stop him. He typed his name into the internet. There were pictures of him, and lots of pictures of his parents. There were entire webpages about them. When his mum found him an hour later, he was crying into the keyboard.

  “Baby, what’s the matter?” She scooped him up into her arms, although he was probably too old and too big for that. He wrapped his arms and legs around her and cried into her shoulder.

  “There are mean things about us on the computer!” He whimpered. He felt his mum go stiff.

  “Why were you looking at that, Daniel?”

  “Miss Caroline showed me how.” The next day, he had a new tutor.

✦

  Phil Lester got his first job at age twelve, delivering papers. His older brother Martyn had just dropped out of school to wash dishes at a local pub, and Phil realised he needed to help earn money too. Every Friday, they collected their wages and sat at the kitchen table with their father to help budget the next week’s bills and groceries. The first time Phil joined them, brandishing a few small bills in his fist, his father cried. “I’m so sorry. I’m so ashamed.” Phil couldn't make sense of it. His father worked two jobs, around seventy hours a week. His mother was very ill, but still sold vegetables from their small garden when she was able. None of his friend’s parents worked half as hard as his own did.

  As Phil grew older, he grew angrier. He watched his mother waste away in a hospital bed while his father worked himself to the bone. He watched his brother lose his friends because he couldn’t afford to spend a Saturday night partying instead of working a minimum wage job. Phil’s work ethic strengthened as he watched his family suffer.

  When he was fifteen, his drama teacher pulled him aside and told him about a one-off local modelling job that would earn him two hundred pounds. “It’ll be maybe ten hours work, total. Maybe,” She handed him a card with a website and phone number on it. Phil nearly laughed in her face.

  “I’m definitely not a model.”

  “You don’t have to be a serious model, Phil. This is a small, local job. Besides, you don’t even need to audition, you have the job if you want it.” Apparently her brother, a recruiter for a small modelling agency, had been in the audience during the last play and thought Phil had an _interesting look, perfect for fashion photography._

  And so, though Phil thought it was ridiculous, he took the job. He wore a few different outfits and pretended that he felt attractive while they photographed him. He was paid two hundred pounds as promised, and a few months later, his image was in newspaper ads for a local vintage shop.

  A few months after that, he had dropped out of school to work the same job Martyn had left school for, when he received a call from the modelling agency asking him to work another job. And then another one. Soon, he was modelling so often that he couldn’t hold down a day job. His face was showing up on billboards and at bus stations. By the time he was seventeen, he was signed to one of the largest agencies in the world, living in a small flat in London by himself, and sending half of his paychecks right back to his family.

✦

  As a teenager, Dan fell in and out of love very quickly and very fervently. Not with people- he wasn’t around enough people for that- but with hobbies. He was privileged enough that his parents indulged every new passion he came across. When he decided he wanted to be an artist, they hired a professional to teach him how to draw. It proved frustrating, so he quit and decided to learn the piano. This lasted longer, but he once again grew bored. He tried dozens of activities. Skateboarding, DJ-ing, acting. As excited as he always was to try something new, his parents never expected it to last. Until fashion.

  His mother had been a model. A very, very famous one, he now understood. She had been the face of every major brand out there before she gave it up. He always found himself returning to her photos, staring at them as if they were going to open up and pull him inside. He would stand in his father's closet and run his fingers over the thousand-pound suits. The textures, the seams. There was a night when he was sixteen years old and flicking through photos of the most recent Vivienne Westwood men’s collection, when a blue eyed model made him freeze. Lots of models felt vacant- like coat hangers, they weren’t people, they were props for the clothes. But Phil Lester was a force that came through the page. He spent hours online, going through Phil’s work, poring over every detail. He became obsessed, not only with Phil, but with the art of modelling. How a photo could tell a story, not just sell a shirt.

  This, of course, was the one hobby his parents were reluctant to finance. “I don’t know, Daniel,” his mother sighed. “How about design? I could buy you some lovely fabrics.”

  “No, mum. I want to model. You know I’m serious about this, I’ve been wanting it for years now and I’ll do it whether or not you help me. But I would like it if you helped me.” His parents sat and looked at each other, speaking silently in the way couples who have been together for decades do.

  “No. I’m sorry. If this is something you want, you’re old enough to make that decision, but you’re going to have to pursue it on your own,” his father said. Dan’s face went hot and his eyes glazed over with disappointed tears.

  “This is so unfair! Just because _she_ had a bad experience-” Dan flicked his hand out in the direction of his mother.

  “Daniel, stop this!” His father shouted. His mother’s eyes were fixed on the ground. “We have given you everything a child could dream of! Do not dare throw a tantrum now, you’re almost grown.” Dan’s stomped to his room, enraged. It was true, his parents had supported every little whim, every fancy he had ever had, but now, when his passion was _real_ and _true_ , they couldn’t find it within themselves to make a single phone call on his behalf. _Fuck_. He threw himself onto his bed, letting his ankles and elbows hit the mattress with excessive force. He didn’t know how to be successful without the support of his parents, and certainly not as a teenager. Hell, he didn’t know how to be successful _with_ the support of his parents. It certainly hadn’t happened yet. He decided he was going to let the dream rest. Just for a little while. He would still follow the London fashion scene, but he wouldn’t pursue it.

  And he didn’t, not for years. Not until he was twenty-five.

✦

_NOW_

  Phil had walked this show several times before. He booked Alexander McQueen jobs pretty consistently. He had been doing this long enough that he felt no nerves, no excitement. The other models in the show were all men he recognized and had worked with before. This job was going to be as casual as it got in high fashion. At least- that was what he had expected when he showed up for his final fitting before the show started. The air felt charged with electricity, as if everyone in the room was on the verge of an anxiety attack. “What’s going on?” He asked Chris, another model and an old friend.

  “Last minute addition, apparently. Guess who.”

  “Who?”

  “No, guess.”

  “Ugh, Chris,” Phil groaned.

  “All right, it’s Daniel Howell.”

  “Who?”

  “Daniel Howell! _Howell_!” It clicked.

  “...No. Is he-”

  “Yeah, he’s the son.”

  “What? Has he even modelled before?”

  “No! Literally never! No print ads, no runway shows, nothing!” Chris was grinning widely, as if this was the best thing to happen all day. “Isn’t that hilarious?”

  “Hilarious? That he’s literally never modelled before and his first gig is an Alexander McQueen show?”

  “Oh, that’s not all, _mon_ _ami_.”

  “Oh god, what?” Chris leaned in close, eyes twinkling.

  “He’s the _opener_ ,” He said in a stage whisper. Phil’s mouth dropped open.

  “He’s walking first?” Chris nodded. Phil was suddenly filled with rage. _He_ was supposed to be walking first. That’s how it had gone at rehearsal. He was twenty-nine years old, he wouldn’t be getting this type of booking for much longer and he knew it. How dare this kid waltz in with a portfolio that had nothing but his fancy last name on it and-

  “Shit, that’s him, I think!” Chris was pointing at a man standing awkwardly in the doorway, looking around like he had never been backstage at a fashion show before. _Because he hadn't._ “Oh, he definitely looks like his mum.” Phil watched as the man was ushered to a makeup chair, looking slightly disgruntled. He watched as he scoffed at a PA who offered him water, he watched as he rolled his eyes at another model who came over to shake his hand. “Christ, what a charmer,” Chris snorted beside Phil. “Let’s go say hi.”

  “No!”

  “Oh, come on, he won’t bite.” Chris grabbed Phil by the arm and dragged him towards the makeup chairs. “Hi there! Are you Daniel? I’m Chris and this is Phil.” The man looked at them, but said nothing, just sat there staring. “Um, okay. Well. I know you’re new at this, so if you have any questions, go ahead and-”

  “I won’t have any questions, I know what I’m doing,” he said.

  “Ah. Okay, then. You are Daniel Howell, right?” Chris asked hesitantly. The man rolled his eyes again.

  “Yes. Now you have earned the right to fuck off.” Phil was flabbergasted. Models didn’t have a reputation of being the warmest group of people but he had never in his life met one with this little respect for others. Chris turned to walk away, but Phil felt frozen in place. Daniel wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  “Phil, mate, let’s go.”

  “No. Excuse me, Daniel,” Phil tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up in surprise. “You do not have the right to speak to us that way.”

  “I wasn’t- I wasn’t speaking to _you_ , just him.”

  “I don’t care. You don’t talk to anyone like that. My friend Chris was being nice, he was trying to help you, what’s your problem?” Daniel’s eyes narrowed.

  “He wasn’t though, was he? He was trying to get close to me because he wants to be associated with me, that’s obvious.” Phil laughed in disbelief. Chris was pulling at his arm.

  “You absolute-”

  “Phil, let’s go!” Chris was obviously uncomfortable, so Phil allowed himself to be dragged away.

 

  Later, when they were all lined up, ready to walk, he finished his thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry, our soft and giggly boys are in there, they're just a little reluctant to show themselves quite yet ;)  
>  leave a comment or talk to me on tumblr @ floralleigh


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